


11 Blocks - Oneshot

by lmjposie



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Episode: s01e06 Legacies, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Inspired by The Vampire Diaries, Lesbian Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 20:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16920027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmjposie/pseuds/lmjposie
Summary: a Posie AU oneshot inspired by “11 Blocks” by Wrabel. Apologies in advance.





	11 Blocks - Oneshot

  **Journal Entry 1 - 7/24/2036**

 

_11 blocks from my door to your doorstep_

_Three years later and it feels too close_

 

11 blocks. That’s how far my house is from yours. You don’t even know how many times I’ve wanted to walk all the way over there and forgive you and forget everything that happened just to hold you again. God, I’ve thought about it so many times. It’s been three years and I’m still not over it, over you. Even though it’s a mere 11 blocks, it still feels so close. It’s so suffocating to me.

 

_I thought I broke the last of that breakdown_

_The morning I sold your winter coat_

It took me a whole year to get rid of everything you left. I’m not even sure what really was yours and what was mine because our wardrobes just combined. Perks of dating a girl, right? I’d steal some of your hoodies and band t-shirts while you’d steal some sweatpants and sweaters from me. I could’ve sent what I believed to be yours in a box, but it hurt too much. All the pain, all the memories.

 

With every sweater, I remembered all of our lazy Sundays where we’d stay inside and watch Disney movies until 2 a.m. With every hoodie, I remembered the way you’d stick your arms in the front pocket of my hoodie and how your head would rest on my shoulder. It didn’t even have to be a cold day for you to do that, it was just your special way of being as close to me as possible.

 

With every pair of socks, I remembered your unique style. You’d wear (my) baggy shirts paired with ridiculously patterned pants and your odd little socks. We had made it a habit to stop by the crazy sock store in the mall to check out the socks. Every single time we went in, we came out with a new pair of socks for you. Sometimes they’d have silly sayings on it, some you just loved the design, and other times you’d by the most ridiculous ones you could find.

 

Every accessory reminded me of how you’d steal them from me because it would match your outfit. I found the necklace you had given me the other day. The one with the key and heart with your initials engraved in them. I found it underneath Lizzie’s bed. She probably took it so that I wouldn’t obsess over it and be reminded of it and burst into tears. Well, at least she tried, because that’s exactly what I’m doing now.

 

Every single article of clothing I owned had a memory of you. I couldn’t deal with it. I think I bought a whole new wardrobe after things ended between us. I changed up my entire style. I traded most of my sweaters and hoodies for blouses and cute tops. I figured that if I look like I have my life together, things would’ve fallen into place. It sorta did, but there was a giant you-shaped hole in my heart.

 

I sold your winter coat to my neighbor for a whopping $5. These mere $5 could never is replace the memories of us, back when everything was all right. Back when we were happy. Back when I was happy.

 

**Journal Entry 2 - 8/02/2036**

 

_It doesn’t feel right when I’m grabbing a coffee_

_The same old spot, but I’m on my own_

I still go to our favorite coffee shop. I sit in our same spot. You know, the corner where you can see everyone and everything in the petite little shop. I It feels so wrong being there without you, but the cup of morning joe I’d always order keeps me coming back. It could also be the fact that I hope to run into you, to see how you’re doing, to see your gorgeous smile all over again. But to my disappointment, after three years, you’ve never once stopped by.

 

**Journal Entry 3 - 8/05/2036**

 

_I feel OK in the day, but at nighttime_

_You know how I get when I’m alone_

The first year was the hardest, I cried myself to sleep almost every day. If I wasn’t crying, I was getting drunk to drown out the memories we had together. You know how I get when I’m alone and sad. The second year I was OK, I guess you could say. I didn’t cry myself to sleep every day. I actually started involving myself in school again, I joined the Student Counsel, I hung out with Hope and MG more. By the third year, not everything was forced, I found myself again. I still thought about you a lot, though.

 

Here I am, in the third year since you dumped me and I’m still thinking about you, but at least I’ve grown as a person. I’m more opinionated, you’d always push me to stop being so codependent on Lizzie. You stood up to Lizzie for me countless times. No matter how much I told you to lay off of her a little, you still never missed a shot to tell her off. Now, I don’t need you to do that. I think I’ve grown out of her shadow. I hope I’ve grown out of her shadow. It’s actually liberating.

 

_Cause my mind won’t stop; it’s just 11 blocks_

11 blocks. That’s exactly 2323 steps. I’ve counted. I walk three times more in a single day on campus, what’s 2323 more? I wonder if you still think about me. It keeps me up at night thinking about what I could’ve done better or why I wasn’t enough. My mind races with a million “what ifs.”

 

**Journal Entry 4 - 8/21/2036**

 

_I know that you’re home_

_Cause it’s Friday night; you’re not that type_

_I know that you’re home_

 

I’ve passed by your house a few times. It’s nice to see your Fridays haven’t changed. Friday nights to you don’t mean getting blackout drunk at Frat parties and waking up in a stranger’s house the next day. Friday nights to you don’t mean going to the movies with friends. Friday nights to you means curling in bed with a good book and a whole batch of freshly baked cupcakes. I know that you’re home and I so badly want to knock on your door and be in the comfort of your presence while we read our respective books.

 

I didn’t write about it when it happened, but almost got the courage one day, a few months after we broke up, actually. Except, I noticed a car there, one that I had vaguely seen before. It made me wonder if you’d moved on from me already. My heart hurt a lot that night, but you weren’t mine anymore so did I really have a right to be upset?

 

_14 blocks from your door to this party_

I caught myself counting on the way

 

**Journal Entry 5 - 9/01/2036**

 

14 blocks. 2957 steps. You never really liked parties. I don’t like them either, but I find myself at them more and more just to get my mind off of everything and to forget my responsibilities, in attempt to drown out my sorrows for the meantime. It doesn’t work, though. I always end up taking 200 steps in your direction before one of my friends stops me from showing up drunk at your door. They save me before I make a fool out of myself, stumbling over my words to the girl that broke my heart.

 

But sometimes I wonder, what would happen if I did show up at your door? Would you shut the door in my face? Would you break my heart again?

 

**Journal Entry 5 - 9/16/2036**

 

_And right when I stepped in the door to the party_

_I stepped outside to grab a smoke_

_You know how I get when I’m alone_

At a party last night, I swear I thought I saw you there. I walked in and I saw a girl with long loosely curled brown hair. Her back was turned to me and I swore it was the same leather jacket I knew you owned. I’d steal them from you sometimes even though I knew I’d never look as good in them as they did on you. But then again, you could pull of anything. I mean, the ridiculous socks you’d buy was living proof of that.

 

But anyway, I thought surely it couldn’t have been you, you hate parties. I did a double take and my suspicions were correct, it wasn’t you. But the thought of seeing you again shook me to the core. I had to step outside. You hated when I smoked, so I never did it anymore. All it took was you to tell me no just once and I dropped it all for you.

 

I picked up the habit once again. You’re not around to tell me not to. I really only smoke when I’m stressed. It seems that now that you’re gone, I’m stressed quite a lot. Now that I’m alone and you’re not going around trying to pry the cigarette from my fingertips. This cancer-stick has become one of the only things that you didn’t take when you left.

 

_Cause my mind won’t stop; it’s just 14 blocks_

_I know that you’re home_

_Cause it’s Friday night; you’re not that type_

_I know that you’re home_

**Journal Entry 6 - 9/21/2036**

It’s Friday night, I’m here at this horrid Frat party where it reeks of alcohol and marijuana. I’m here in a place full of sweaty, drunk people and you’re at home. You’re in a place where the pleasant smell of vanilla hits your nose. You’re at home with a fuzzy blanket and a good book and probably someone that isn’t me. I would trade the world just to be there with you again. It’s times like that which I miss most. I miss the intimacy and domesticity we had. Neither one of us would have to talk, and we’d just bask in each other’s company.

 

_Someone stop me, please, from hurting myself_

_Cause I’m two blocks away and you’re hurting my health_

I managed to walk 2534 steps, 9 blocks, drunk off my ass and no one had stopped me. I figured Lizzie or Hope would’ve stopped me. I was two blocks away and all I could think about was you, all I’ve thought about for three years is you. It’s hurting me. This isn’t healthy. I know that I shouldn’t. I should hate you. I should be repulsed by the thought of you. But I can’t, I just can’t.

 

Every fiber of my being still loves you even when I shouldn’t. You shattered my heart and I’m afraid it can’t be fixed. I read somewhere that you can actually die of a broken heart, it’s called broken heart syndrome. It’s where a part of your heart temporarily enlarges and doesn’t pump well, while the rest of your heart functions normally or with even more forceful contractions. I self-diagnosed myself, I get the chest pains and the shortness of breath. And I’ve come to terms that I could potentially be the next victim.

 

**Journal Entry 7 - 9/29/2036**

 

_And it’s Friday night; you’re not that type_

_I know that you’re home_

I know you’re not the type to go out on Friday nights even when your best friends are begging you. I thought I knew a lot about you. However, I didn’t think you’d break my heart like that. Just a few days prior, you were telling me how much you loved me. We even joked about our wedding plans, we talked about possible kid names, we were even supposed to move in together during the next school year. Is it silly to think I thought you were really the one for me after dating for only a year?

 

_Somebody stop me. I should be going home_

_Somebody stop me. Oh yeah, yeah, yeah_

I’m a block away. It’s 3 a.m. and I should be going home. Your place basically used to be my home but after our breakup, I felt homeless. I mean, I still had a place to go home to, but it didn’t feel the same. In my home, I didn’t feel the feel happiness, security, and love I once did. Home should be relaxing and comforting, but there were reminders of you everywhere. After almost making my way to your house, I was the one to save myself that night.

 

A block away, the chilling autumn air blowing against my face felt like a slap in the face. It sobered me up pretty quickly. I realized what I was doing, where I was going. I realized I didn’t have a plan as to what I was gonna say to you. I probably was just going to become an emotional mess. I would’ve blurted out everything that I’ve kept bottled up all these years. I would’ve said something that I regretted. It wouldn’t have been closure. Knowing you, you’d just take it. You’d let me call you terrible names, accuse you of things you never did, you’d just hold me while I thrashed at you. You’d stroke my hair and quietly shush me, letting me get all of my pent-up anger out before I’d eventually collapse. I called an Uber and stopped myself. That was probably the proudest moment I had within that three-year span.

 

**Journal Entry 8 - 5/16/2037**

 

_Well, I met someone_

_And I think I’m in love_

It’s been eight months since I last wrote to you,

 

I have suppressed my thoughts of you recently. I met someone.

 

It’s funny because you guys have the same name, Penelope Park. She has the same breathtaking hazel eyes like you. But her hair, oh her hair. It’s shorter now, she’s rocking a lob. I remember when I pointed it out and she showed it off by doing a cute little hair flip.

 

Anyway, I met her almost two months after I almost showed up at your doorstep. I stopped going to parties, that night had been the wake-up call that I needed. I met her outside the coffee shop. Upon noticing her, surely I wasn’t going to say hello first. I actually started walking the complete opposite direction, but she stopped me. She pleasantly made conversation, and it wasn’t totally awkward.

 

Eventually, we sat down at one of the outside tables. I found out that she’d been going here for the past three years as well. Well, she actually never went inside, she’d just notice me from afar. Normally, one would find that really creepy and they’d probably get a restraining order, but I was actually flattered. I never felt like people noticed me, I felt like people always noticed my sister, not me. But she told me she noticed the changes I went through. She complimented me on the new wardrobe, the new style. She smiled and said it fits me very well. I don’t know how the time managed to slip away from us so quickly, but before we knew it, we’d spent four hours just talking about whatever came to our minds. We refamiliarized ourselves with each other again.

 

What I mean to say is, Penelope, the girl I knew three years ago is just a shell compared to the beautiful girl that she has become. In her place, stands a stronger, more determined girl that I once knew. I like her better. She knows what she wants, she is focused, she’s fearless. I see no remnants of the girl that hurt me years ago. I’ve come to terms with the fact that we actually needed this separation. We’ve become stronger as individuals.

 

Years ago, you told me that the world needs the selfless and the selfish to keep spinning. You said you happened to be the latter. But I think you’re different now. I think you’ve changed to be the selfless and I turned into the selfish. I feel selfish because I’m doing things for me now. I mean, I still care about other people but now when I want something, I go for it. And I want something now, I want you. The new you.

 

**Journal Entry 8 - 5/18/2037**

We’ve been taking it slow. We’ve both acknowledged that the fear of getting hurt again was all too real for me. But the girl that I now know has managed to tape back the tiny fragments of my heart. Granted, there’s still a few pieces missing, but I’m okay with that. I’ve redefined home: you. I felt all the happiness, security, and love once more. I felt relaxed and comforted in her presence. The intimacy and domesticity fell into place once more. I reveled in the feeling, God, my memory never quite did it justice to how it actually felt.

 

_But my mind won’t stop_

I’m lying in my bed, after a quiet night in with you again, but yet the old you is back in my mind. I found myself comparing everything that Penelope 2.0 does. No kiss caused the same sparks that you ignited in me, no, it’s better. Every kiss now sparks a full-fledged flame. No touch caused the electricity you powered. Looking back, your touches used to only light up a single house. Now, they could light up an entire village.

 

A few days ago, you told me that you love me for the first time since we got back together. I didn’t say it back, not immediately, and you reassured me and said that it’s okay. You said that you didn’t need to hear it now, you just wanted to get it off your chest. It’s moments like that where I can truly see the change in you.

 

But I do love you. I put up these walls in case I get hurt again, but you tore them down the minute you came up to me and flipped your hair. I told you “I love you” the next moment that I could.

 

Now, every proclamation of “I love you” doesn’t come close to the effect it had on me than it did before. In fact, before, the word lost all its meaning. Now when you say those three words, I want to hear it all the time. It’ll never lose its meaning; my heart skips a beat just like how it did the first time you said it to me this time around.

 

_And, I met someone and I swear I’m in love_

_But I’m two blocks away and you’re just like a drug_

 

I loved the old you, but it’s no wonder I could never actually make it to that doorstep. Even if I were 1901 steps, two blocks, away at 4.am., I would never have made it to you. Now, I’d walk 10,000 steps to be right next to you. The new you is wonderful. You’re beautiful. You’re everything I could’ve dreamed of and more.

 

You were like a drug. I was addicted. I would’ve hurt my relationships just to spend time with you. I would’ve thrown everything away for you. I see now how toxic we used to be. We’d fight all the time, mostly over Lizzie taking up most of my time but I’d be too stubborn to listen, and you’d be so ramped up on anger you’d leave before it got too much. Now, we finally see each other. It’s healthy. We finally listen. We communicate. A quiet thing is finally heard and the selfish becomes the selfless. It’s quite the wild turn of events if I do say so myself.

 

It’s our six-month anniversary today. I’m two blocks away, sitting on a park bench writing this. I’ve got your favorite flowers, roses, of course. Yesterday you told me the reason why you broke up with me all these years ago, because I’d put Lizzie before I’d put you. You couldn’t take it being my second priority. If you had asked me years ago, I would’ve told you that you’re wrong. I would’ve said that you were my number one. But now, I can see that everything I did, was for Lizzie. I’d put her needs before mine. I put her above you, and it wasn’t the right thing to do. Now you’re my number one. Truly and honestly

 

Breaking up with me, you said it was the hardest thing you ever had to do. You said you never stopped loving me. You told me how for three years you’d watch me go into the coffee shop and sit in our spot. You said that when I’m not there, that’s where you sit too. But you watched me from afar just to see me grow as a separate being. It’s a shame it took me three years to finally get my act together, but I’d do it all over again. You’re the one for me. I love you, Penelope Park. It’s only been six months, but I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with. I want that, and I want you. Maybe that makes me selfish. But a wise woman once told me the selfish and the selfish, we keep the world spinning.

 

So, thank you, old Penny. Although our relationship was tragic and rocky, you helped me become the woman that I am today. I wouldn’t be where I’m at if it weren’t for you, breaking my heart. Thank you, but I'm done writing about you. This is the start to the new chapter in my life where I'm happy, I no longer need to think of you. I love the new Penny.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, some feedback would be appreciated. I didn't know if the part where I had Josie write about the old Penelope make sense.


End file.
